An Undisclosed Courtship
by tectrices
Summary: //Rayne// River's gone a-hunting, and unbeknownst to the rest of the crew, she has a certain mercenary in her sights. A follow-up to "The Reluctant Suitor", again in River speak.


_Disclaimer: I do not own Firefly/Serenity or the numerous things I reference herein, including but not limited to the altered bit of poetry from A. E. Housman_

**-A/N:** Another River-speak piece! This was written as a request for sunshineali - a sequel to "The Reluctant Suitor". She asked for more of the bendy and lavender - not sure how well I managed it, but I did try! It's post-BDM obviously, and it gets a little more heated (As in: last 9 "paragraphs" are a teeny bit smut-ish). But I got to make a Chemistry joke AND a breaking-the-fourth-wall joke at the same time. I can't even tell you how much that delights me.

An Undisclosed Courtship

* * *

"I smell a fight."

"A fight?" Jayne looked at her from up Vera's skirts. His attention was caught. "What kinda fight?"

Waved his interest away. "The Captain and Companion kind – pulled apart, when all we need is one more. They are very difficult." J

ayne nodded sagely, as though he, too, knew all about the intricate dance. "Yeah, that's the truth. They just ain't gonna let it be easy. Mal can't just say he loves 'er; and Inara sure as hell can't just say she loves him."

"Foolish. They postpone the inevitable." The _Serenity_-family, after having two ripped away, was so close to being complete. Had six fully compatible, then seven with warrior woman's new little life – but Inara was distant. Too distant to be in their cloud. "Must complete the octet." She nodded. "Wants to come. We are very electronegative."

"Ock-what? An' electo-who?" Smiled at the silly man's lack of knowledge. "Octet. Need eight electrons in outer shell. Already two in first – pilot and preacher forever in memory. Inara will not give up completely, holds too tightly to her distance from the captain. Wants to share, but occasion calls for ionic bond. Our atom needs her."

"Our what? Girl, the ship's called _Serenity_, not nothin' like _Adam_."

"Fully aware of this, man-called-Jayne. I mean a metaphor. An atom – where we all come from, building blocks of – "

"What, like Adam an' Eve?"

"No! Metaphor, man-called-Jayne. I speak of no lies from a preacher's symbol – an _atom_ is a building block, made of particles like protons and neutrons and electrons. We are the electrons in the _Serenity_-atom. Listen to Lewis, draw the dots. Charged and small, we can be added or taken away."

Jayne scoffed. "Ain't no 'lectron. An' I ain't no Adam, either."

So obtuse – skull like cement with molasses for brains. "Futile task; I surrender. Why do I put up with your mental mediocrity?"

He smirked. Oh, sexiest of smirks, on Jayne now – she'd hang her bloom along his bough. "'Cause you think I'm swai."

Accursed truth. "That is irrelevant." He looked adorably arrogant, so sure of himself. Adorably arrogant, cute when concerned, oh let him ignite her - their fire could burn. He was so very, _very_ correct. He went back to his gun, laid out in pieces on the floor. Smiling, because he knew he had the girl. Wasn't fair, wasn't fair. He noticed her more – had moments when she was all he could see, but he would tamp them down. Hammer into boxes, under tightly closed lids. Could trick her into believing he didn't care, but she had learned, knew which tricks to try. Knew just what to do to make his mind race, to make his blood boil.

Man-called-Jayne enjoyed watching, too.

They went back and forth, back and forth – she laid her traps, but he'd evade. And he would tease, tease, tease – knew she was in pursuit and went out of his way to make her want him more. Would find excuses to be without a shirt, would give her smiles where no one else could see. They played the most dangerous game, every move a risk, the consequences dire if they were to get caught. But she was careful, stealthy and healthy and soon to be wealthy – one day she'd catch her quarry, a very valuable prize.

"Hey crazy-girl. 'M done cleanin' Vera." He wiped down his favorite girl a final time. "Wanna go put 'er away?"

As if he didn't already know the answer. "Would be pleasure and privilege, man-called-Jayne." Huge compliment that he trusted her with his guns – and to go down to his bunk? To touch his things and smell air permeated with the scent of him? Did not matter he took advantage of her affection to set her to tasks; she did them gladly. With a beam, River took the gun and scampered off, eager to spend more time in his lair.

The den of a Jayne was a sacred place. Every mess to be admired, arsenal to be regarded with reverence – though stimulating pictures of unclothed women seemed to make their way back to the walls no matter how often she tore them down. She put Vera on her pedestal; the story had come from Jayne eventually, with cattle prodding: how his Cathy had coerced him, took his heart, her name a bell hung there, his _Vera_, verily vicious, undeserving of the Jayne she'd been bestowed. River wished nothing but ill to her, a plague on all her houses.

After properly placing the gun, she laid down on the bed. It smelled like him, smelled of musky man and mixed signals. He would return to find her scent lingering, as well; red, red, red – Jayne fell on his head, and blue – the broken, beaten, battering girl. Combining for purple, her color of choice; unspoken attraction at last given voice. Nose would know; she belonged there.

Suddenly the hatch opened. Drip, drip, drop little April showers, Jayne-bird sings to call May flowers. "Get off m'bed, Crazy."

Murmured sleepily, pressed her face into the pillow. "Too comfortable."

Knew the sight stirred him. He sat beside her, barely touched. One large hand stroked tentatively from her shoulder blades to the small of her back. Caused ripples in the River.

"You was right. Mal an' 'Nara are at it again."

"Always right," she informed him, turning over. Fanning hair would turn into cephalopod – hook her tentacles in, roots in the bed – would turn into sheet and mattress and more. A part so integral he could never remove her.

He looked at her curiously as she wiggled. "Girl, what are you doin'?"

"Planting roots. Have ten tentacles to slide into bed-pores."

"What the hell are you talkin' about? That makes no kinda sense."

She reached up and grabbed his temple, pulling his head down onto hers. "Crazy," she reminded him slyly, grinning all the while. "Not meant to make much sense." When he didn't pull away, she let her fingers slide into his hair. So close and so far away – what would it take to make him stay? "Such a pretty mouth," she murmured, staring intently. Lips perfectly shaped, almost too lovely to be real. "Why do you never share?"

"Don't kiss on the mouth," he whispered, voice heavy. "Done told you that. I ain't gonna get robbed blind by some gorram whore. And it's too personal – gotta be a girl _real _worth it."

He was staring at her mouth, too. "Making vow to you now, man-called-Jayne; one day all your kisses shall be mine. And you will know… _I_ am worth it."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes." So very, very sure. Blood more than rubies, eyes more than gold. Diamonds were dust; emeralds were ashes. Could be the richest man in the world if he'd only pluck the pretty flower from the dusty, draining ground.

But could not be convinced. Saw only the worn wooden chest, not the treasure inside. He sat up and looked away. Damn. Would have worked if she had been naked.

"So what were them 'lectrons you was tellin' me about?" Subject change; non sequitur, non sequitur, a light on upper deck lit her – illuminating and illustrious. She could share knowledge if she could not share saliva.

"Negatively charged elementary particles." Ran fingers up his thigh – he stilled her hand before she got to the good parts.

"Oh." Understanding not complete, but partial better than nothing. "So… in your _med-afor_ that's what we are?"

"Good boy. Paid attention well. If _Serenity_ were elemental, would be Fluorine. Most electronegative. Calling out. Attracting others to her."

Jayne grinned teasingly. Oh, heart went thump-thump-thump. "We are a pretty attractive bunch, ain't gonna lie."

Grinned back at him. "Would certainly agree."

Had grabbed her hand, thumb rubbing the inside of the wrist with experience and precision. Made girl-parts glow with fresh feeling. "An' why do we need 'Nara? You said somethin' 'bout eight."

"What every atom wants. Completed. Full." Sensation so sublime; hand on her belly, large and warm. Up, up, up – to much neglected mammary. "Electron pairs – warrior and whelp, Simon and sunshine…" Had to touch him, just fingertips to cloth-covered skin. "Genius and Jayne…" Looked up at him with electric eyes. "Captain and Companion only follows."

"Right." Was no longer interested, eyes tuned to her station – locking in, iris irreverently reaching and reaping. What had she sown? Seeds of submission, a sensory stone - so supple, succinct and sorely her own. Would give him everything he asked for if only he'd ask for it. One hand moved to her leg, stroking up and down, going higher every time.

But psychic hotline had a caller. A Simon-subconscious; soon he'd search for a sister. Would not do to be found in such a compromising position with Jayne. Groaned in annoyance.

"Interruption," she said sullenly, stroking his cheek. "Time for consumption and Simon yearns to be useful. Will come to tell me to eat very soon."

"So you gotta get out of here."

"Yes."

A moment of silence as tension slowly eased. Man-called-Jayne let out long-suffering sigh. Poor, poor man-parts. Would never get to show off for her at this rate. "You go on – an' I'll be up in a minute." Voice was tight – his feelings aflutter. Was confusion always so aqua-marine?

But she gave him a nod. Scampered over to ladder. "Just so you know… Not an anomaly." Gave him saucy smile. "Situation bears repeating, don't you think? Next time to conclusion."

And leaving him with that, she disappeared back into the upper realm of their world.

Mal and Inara had finished the fight; neither one content, no victor in such a war. Stale taste of pointed remarks and hurting hearts lingered where they had sparred. Shook the air out with twirling hair – dancing for joy to rid it of the stubbornness Reynolds and Serra so unnecessarily provided.

Brother was approaching. The Simon-flower pulled its own petals.

Loves-me, loves-me-not, the creed as he wafted spicy worry concerning his Kaylee-shine. Had been thinking on it all week – proposing a proposal. Wanted wedding bells to ring. Hadn't found the right moment to do it; River would have to take things into her own hands soon.

"Mei mei, it's time to eat." He smiled at her dancing with brotherly pride. "Have you seen Jayne anywhere?"

"Swinging on his vine. Down,down – the bear in his lair."

He nodded. "I'll go get him then."

Had fluttery feeling of fine contentment. But… No! No, no, no, no, no! Simon was walking into the thorns. Her Tarzan's interest had been successfully sparked – fuel to his fire – but instead of embracing, he was _chastising_. Did not think he should have the girl! She had worked so hard; would not let her plans be foiled by one silly man. Age no matter , experience with him all the experience she wanted. Rest of the crew would disapprove she knew – but did not appreciate her ability for stealth to be so underestimated. If she did not want them to know, then they would not know.

Final move must be made. Time to take his king and end the game.

She ignored him during the meal and rushed out as soon as her plate was cleared. Laid in wait for him – after the intake of food he would go to the hold and sit. Would lift light weights. She hid, and sure enough he came.

After one set had been completed, she emerged. Were at least momentarily alone. All she had to do was convince him she was serious – wanted him like he was air; vital and viral – had infected every cell.

"Jayne."

He grumbled and grunted, but realized response was required. "What?"

"Your guilt does not suit you. Why is crazy-girl an unsuitable partner?"

"Don't know what you mean, you gorram moonbrain." Scowling was at an all-time high.

"Yes you do, man-called-Jayne." Gave a little twirl; dancing delighted him. "Had Simon not been sensed, would have let the girl have you."

"Well… Shouldn't have let you into my bunk. Done told you a hundred times that we ain't ever gonna happen. You're too crazy, an' I'm too old." But he was only making excuses – almost-tryst had been final straw. Collapsing the camel's back. "It… I ain't takin' advantage of no crazy little thing just 'cause she thinks she's got some kinda crush on me."

Yes… Oh, the sweet smell of concern. Her insistent hunt had yielded unthinkable results; they had become friends. He cared for her – just a little, barely realized it himself. She shook with the thought of it. "Does not matter – cannot take advantage when all the advantage is hers. The girl knows what she wants. And what she wants more than anything in the 'Verse is you." More provocative movements – let her own hands trace where his wanted to go.

Warm eyes, lasers of rich, royal purple tracing every inch of skin, every crevice, every curve.

He was fixated, stuck like glue: sticky, sticky, warm and wet. Couldn't hold it back – all feelings rushing over her, oozing and unobligatory; just her, because she was a girl, something she caused all on her own.

Bask in it – all awash with aubergine. Tiny moan, head back, eyes closed.

"Stop it." Eyes dark; Jayne-string tight, tight. Twang! Pluck, pluck, pluck him _hard_. "Know what you're doin' – and you best stop it now."

Met his eyes and felt the flames. "Your fault. Feelings all over, intrusive and tight. You have an amygdale." She stared him down, a hint of challenge in her eyes. "Use it."

His dark, dusky spikes of lust were growing stronger – quick and hard, faster, faster. Intoxication, oh so exhilarating, hot and heavy, stuffed with softness, walking through sand. Raise arms slowly, arch back – images rush at her; other ways to make her limber body bend and quake.

"Y'don't know what you're doin', crazy." His voice was heavy, laced with arousal; she felt it bearing down like its own body. "Don't dive too deep or you ain't ever comin' out again."

When she was silent, he stood –one step forward, she didn't let herself step back.

"Playin' with fire, River. You're gonna get burned."

"Crackle, sizzle – flames, fire, ember and ash. Want so _badly_ to be burned."

He swallowed, remember the feeling of a milky-white thigh under his palm. "Still think you can do your liquid… bendy…" Growled, defenses weakening. "Y'know, that… liquidy sexin' you talked about?"

Shiver, shiver, made her quiver – so hot it felt cold. "For you, man-called-Jayne, my crazy liquid bendy sexing – waited, waited, waited for you; now I snap you up." And she was a river at last, wild and free – waiting to grow, wanting that gush, ready for a tributary to rush in, levels rise, waters swell. "So empty – fill the River-flask up."

Unexpected effect – words meaning more to him, imagining inside her, mind providing provocations she'd hardly dared to dream about. She reached out and ran tense, trembly fingers up one tense, powerful arm.

And a new presence made itself known.

"Inara," she whispered lowly, taking a step back. "Will come and find, but cannot let her see." She put a finger to her lips. "Keep the secret."

The companion came a moment later, composed and cool, always graceful – each movement measured and meaningful. She smiled at River. "Hello, River. I…" She could sense the tightly coiled tension. But didn't taste it, couldn't smell it. Misinterpreted to their great advantage.

Inara gave Jayne a stern glare: damp displeasure, dripping doubt. She did not know – thought the big, hulking man-ape was harassing the dainty, delicate princess. Did not realize how hard the princess had worked to get the monster to come to her tower and how close to success she was at last. "I hope you're not bothering River, Jayne."

"Me bother her?" Annoyance came off him in poky, insignificant waves. "She's the one come interruptin' me, startin' on with her crazy-talk."

Gave him quick smile where Inara couldn't see. He'd liked the crazy talk.

"I'm sure." Companion turned to princess and said, "Why don't you come with me, River? I'm sure that Jayne would appreciate – "

"No bother," she interrupted quickly. Must remove Inara before mood was destroyed. "He speaks the truth – girl's turn to harass man." She gave Inara a warm, sisterly smile; Companion had been on her way to try to make amends to a crotchety captain. "The girl can handle herself quite well. Go to Captain - complete our octet."

Jayne snickered – remembered the joke. "Got to be eight." Inara gave him a look of undisguised disbelief. He and crazy girl were _joking_? He cleared his throat and said, "Y'know… for the right… Well, 'cause we're 'lectrons." He scowled; River wanted to kiss his wrinkled brow. "Pairs. The Adam wants it to be eight."

Inara was clearly shocked that Jayne and River had jokes – a rapport no one else was privy to. But caused too close to suspicion and she couldn't let it continue. "I have been educating him. Plan to work on house-breaking next."

Older woman graced her with a smile – amusement at poor Jayne's expense; he was not happy, but she did not care; removal of foreign object was of utmost importance. "A worthy, if perhaps futile, endeavor. Very well, then. Goodnight, River." Her wild, stubborn stallion was merely and afterthought. "You, too, Jayne."

They both watched Inara walk away. Then eyes snapped back together – lightning crackling between corneas.

"Y'see," he said. "Not a one of 'em would trust me t'treat you right."

"That is why they will never know. They do not matter. If you want me… You may have me. Clean me up. Keep me well-maintained." Took tentative step closer. "Shiniest weapon in all the 'Verse. Shoots straight and true." One hand ran up his chest. "Would shoot only for you."

He stood straight and tall – pillar of masculinity. Cleared his throat and lit her on fire with his eyes. "Girl…" Let hands fall to her waist, long fingers, wide palms – she was so small and he was so large. "If y'mean what you say. And you're abso-ruttin'-lutely gorram sure…"

Wouldn't waver much longer. "Sure. So very certain. Wily and willing. Warm and wet. Aching for the touch of only one man." Took his hand, put it to her breast. "Just my Jayne."

He growled, mental dam breaking. The River had gotten through at last. "Then come to my bunk, right now… Let me have a go at that gorram gorgeous body o' yours…" Had leaned in, mouth at her ear. "Lemme tear your dress offa you… Touch every inch o' skin… Fuck you so hard y'can't even _think_ anymore…" She was shaking like a leaf, sensations too much, too many to bear. Could feel his breath and lips and tongue. "An' I'll kiss ya. Right on that perfect, _perfect_ little mouth." One hand cupping her bottom, the other at the base of her neck, stroking the skin there. "That what you want, baby girl?"

Implosion – hot and tight and black, stars sucked into inverse spheres – was coming, coming, coming so fast. "Yes." Brain bubbling and babbling, words not working – too many to mean, too applicable to everything else, because nothing had been so wonderful before. "_Yes_." Pulled away and jumped into his arms. Enclosed by those arms like bands of steel. Stroked a deltoid with dexterity. "But will not wait more than a moment – we must go _now_."

He chuckled and she felt it all through. "Ain't gonna argue with that." Doing a quick check for any unwanted observers, he carried her off.

Made good on his threat – dress was in pieces on the floor. Spread like a blanket of flesh above her, strong and hard and so unashamed. Naked Jayne was the very best kind of Jayne. Let her kiss him, let her taste and touch and learn every part she'd ever dared to dream about. Tasted scars. Trailed hands down all his tender parts.

He spread her thighs apart, eyes on the girl, eyes on her body's floodgates, her whole being battered and bruised from his able, ardent, ambrosial attentions.

Whimpering with need, aching and arching and asking for more: he had stolen her breath, nipping her neck, breasts tender and aching – the coarseness of his furry face and softness of his soothing tongue – and pleasure pulses down her spine, had split her open when he whispered "_Mine"._

When he moved inside her for the very first time, her mind was wiped as blank and black as the empty expanse around her. Chaos theory in back-beyond retrospect, the fluttering a dark spiral into a beckoning, breathtaking storm.

Imprinted into her brain. The sounds of his straining, sweaty moans had tipped past her ears – climax in succession slammed into sound, orchestral orgasm to symphonic shattering.

And every answer and every secret in the 'verse was melted, deep, deep, deep, into her very bones.

* * *

-Thanks for reading! Feedback is, as always, greatly appreciated!


End file.
